


stop the world ( i wanna get off with you )

by dormant_bender



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Champions League, Dialogue Heavy, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Game(s), Short One Shot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7005376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fernando makes sure that antoine feels like a champion, even without a title to prove it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stop the world ( i wanna get off with you )

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written for this couple before but I mean, hey. Yolo.
> 
> I'm a Barca fan, whoop, but I found myself supporting Atleti since we got knocked out (considering I like the team and all) and I was really disappointed with the loss today. I think they deserved to win, not that I'm hating on Real. Congrats. :3

    Things were suddenly out of perspective as the final goal of the night is scored by none other than Real's golden boy; he doesn't even have the mentality to even think the name of the man as he silently hisses to himself. The heels of his palm are abruptly at his stinging eyes that are prickling with the sensation of forming tears but he doesn't release them, no, instead he just stands there for a moment as he allows things to sink in.

    Those around him already have steady streams of clear tears cascading down the very planes of flushed cheeks, consoling those around them even through the pain. Having come so close to securing a victory with only one falter that cost the entirety of the game. But the Frenchman doesn't blame anyone else except himself for not scoring more goals, which wouldn't have led to extra time, nor penalty kicks that was the ultimate demise of the team.

    All the thoughts running through his mind were 'fuck, fuck, fuck.' Anything else was far too difficult to deal with, hands finally withdrawing from his face, sniffling as he does so. Bright eyes are unusually dull and slightly rimmed with red as he offers warm smiles to his fellow players, as well as kind smiles to the winners of the League that are more focused on celebrating with each other and their respective family members.

    Things after that are much like a blur as the team retreats to their designated locker room where all the raw emotion finally comes out. So many frustrated groans and even a few, angry yells echo from around him but it barely registers within his mind as he hurriedly strips and snatches up a towel, maneuvering his way from the heavily perspired and musky forms around him for the showers.

    He hangs the plush material up before he enters, allowing the temperature setting to reach near the highest but not quite blistering. Antoine bows his head in defeat, eyes clenching tightly shut, as he allows the warmth to consume him as well as shield the tears that are finally being shed. There is silence in the shower room, for that he's grateful, the man letting his mind slowly settle from the initial loss.

    Then he hears a voice utter his name, to which he ignores, until it's repeated in a firmer tone. Still without a response, the other male works his way into the stall, gently nudging the Frenchman that finally glances up to meet the sight of a thoroughly exhausted Fernando that has hair clinging to his forehead and neck.

    Even though the smile he wears is blatantly melancholy, it's still there, even as he reaches out to gently squeeze the younger's shoulder. "Why do you look so sad?"

    Antoine scoffs at that, wavering from foot to foot, as he leans forward once more so he feels more of the water pounding his form. "Do you really have to ask?"

    "Not really, no. Guess not." 

    "It's just—.." Sigh. "Things could have been so different if maybe I had—maybe if I would have—"

    "—Stop right there." Fernando firmly responds as he moves the same hand as before to now gently caress the younger's cheek, brushing his thumb against the skin there. "Don't go blaming yourself, we played hard, fought hard. It's not you."

    Antoine swats the hand away nonchalantly, feeling more than drained, as he leans forward to adjust the dial to a slightly higher temperature as if the water's properties could make him forget it all. Maybe numb his brain while he was at it. "Had so many chances.. But I—I choked and I couldn't—I just couldn't do it.."

    All the walls that prevented the male from all out crying seemed to break, much like a levy, as he hunches forward and releases a sob. Fernando, as always, manages to collect him within his arms before he can fall forward with the harshness of his cry. Being taller, he rests his chin against the younger's head, allows him to release all the tension from the game in the form of tears. He embraces him tightly, holding him snugly against his chest, not even minding the way the younger's nails dig slightly into his skin; the man holding onto him as if he were a lifeline.

    "I'm not happy with it either, but I realized that we came this far and.. And that's all that matters." Breathes the taller male as he shifts to press his cheek into damp locks, "I cried, too, y'know. Out there in front of all those cameras."

    "We came this f-far to lose.." Antoine nearly whimpers as he speaks, clenching tighter into the smooth skin of the elder's back. "Je aurais pu essayer plus. I let it slip through my fingers, just like that. Oh mon Dieu. Je suis vraiment désolé."

    Despite the situation, the elder manages a laugh, which earns a frustrated noise from the man within his arms. "I don't speak French, Anto."

    "Je me suis excusé."

    "That's still French."

    "Sorry."

    Fernando releases another amused laugh, smiling genuinely since the loss, as he gently steers the two backward until the younger's back thuds against the tiled wall. He leans down slightly, placing a finger beneath Antoine's chin, tilting it upward so he can view his face in its entirety. Cheeks are blotchy, eyes are reddened, and lips are still trembling as he releases another soft sound.

    But he doesn't breathe a word as he tilts his head slightly, the younger gazing at him with furrowed brows, bringing an arm up to swipe along his tear-stained cheeks that are indiscernible with the water still pounding from the shower-head above. Fernando offers a half-smile, to which the corner of the younger's lips quirk upward at, before he hesitantly leans forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

    "What are you doi—"

    "Shh,"

    Once more lips are descended upon the brunet's in another chaste kiss, one where he gently traces the very tip of his tongue along the outline of his lower lip. It's a slow and deliberate movement that leaves the younger softly moaning, lips slightly parting, enough that the elder can take advantage of it. He presses his lips more insistently against the younger's, tongue delving within his hot cavern, gingerly discovering every inch his mouth has to offer.

    The brunet releases another soft sound as he presses his tongue back against the latter's but the elder doesn't relent in his gentle exploration as he instead allows the tip of his tongue to glide along the roof of Antoine's mouth, the movement sending a shudder down said man's spine. Hands, one's that were previously rigid at his sides, raise to tangle within the silky strands of Fernando's mane to tug him undeniably closer.

    A smug smirk is felt more than seen against Antoine's lips as he presses more insistently into the contours of the younger's body, grabbing at his wrists, pinning them triumphantly above his head with little retaliation. The loss is all but forgotten as the two release all the anger and tension and whatever underlying issues the two were having within their person live's into the kiss that seemingly gains momentum as it progresses.

    Teeth are clashing suddenly, the elder grunting at the sensation, as he releases a wrist in favor of allowing his palm to glide along the smooth expanse of Antoine's chest. His journey consists mainly of the toned muscle of his abdomen, bluntly scraping his nails along the firmness there, then snaking downward toward where his half-hard cock rests.

    Antoine releases a sharp inhale at the contact, knees buckling, once the man wraps a warm hand around his cock. "Merde. Tu fais ça par pitié?"

    "Spanish?"

    Cheeks flush considerably then, a bright rosy pink, as he allows his head to thud back against the wall. "I, uh—You're not.. You're not, wait—Stop. Can't think." He trembles when the hand tightens for a moment before it halts all prior movements, the elder occupying himself with peppering open-mouthed kisses along his neck now. "Y-you pity me?"

    Fernando withdraws from his throat to coin him an incredulous look, brows furrowed tightly. "Just tired of you blaming yourself over everything," murmurs the man as he resumes to lick a strip up the column of his throat, nipping at the skin at the base. "Wanted to shut you up."

    "Is that why you're— _we're_ —doing this?"

    "Not the only reason, no." Murmurs the man as he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of his neck, the brunet hissing as he tugs at the elder's hair. "And loosen up while you're at it."

    Antoine, who's voice seems to leave him once he parts his lips, opts to remain quiet. Instead he offers a wordless nod as he tilts his head to the side to allow the latter more access to his throat. He hums at the administrations; knees still buckling, heartbeat racing within his eardrums, fingers practically trembling as he grips into Fernando's hair for purchase.

    Seemingly satisfied, the elder gathers both of their cocks within his hand, stroking them in-time. Bare skin rubs against bare skin and the friction has the two men both moaning at the sensation. He bucks into the fist his hand makes, cock rubbing slickly against the latter, his teeth sinking once more into his neck. It's more or less an attempt to quiet himself as he gains momentum, hand fluidly stroking up-and-down and over again.

    "Ça fait du bien. Dieu. Merde."

    "I swear, Anto."

    "D-don't stop."

    And he doesn't as he continues, hips bucking forward insistently, desperate for release. Desperate to relieve the hurt of the loss completely from his mind. Desperate to see that blissful expression cross the delicate features of the brunet that whispers quietly to himself in rapid-fire French. He grunts as he tightens his hand once more around their cocks until Antoine is gasping out, pressing against the back of his head, lips meeting halfway.

    Teeth are fiercely clashing, lips more than eager to meet with the other, while hips are spasmodically thrusting forward as the two rapidly approach their impending high. The brunet whines low in his throat as he release Fernando's hair in favor of clawing down his back, gripping onto him tightly, that is until a voice calls his name:

    "Hey, Anto? You in here? The bus is about to leave, we gotta go." 

    Koke.

    Hazy eyes shoot up at that and he meets Fernando's gaze but all he sees in the reflection is determination. The hand surrounding both of their cocks in hot, tight heat is suddenly releasing his own cock to focus solely on Antoine's release. He uses one hand to cup his balls, kneading them within his fist, while the other is diligently working on his cock that twitches every passing second.

    Antoine releases a sharp gasp, one that Koke clearly hears: "Is everything alright?"

    Blue eyes shift to Fernando, the male smirking smugly to himself—the bastard. "Answer him," breathes the male as he bruises his face within the younger's neck once more. He delivers a harsh bite, one that has the younger clenching his teeth tightly together, but the sound still spills from his lips.

    "Y-yeah, I'm—" Voice is raspy and nearly strangled as he releases a pathetic whimper when the elder man twists his wrist upon the upstroke on his cock; all he sees is white and black dots in his vision and he isn't sure if he can say anymore. "I'm, shit, okay.."

    "You don't sound okay?"

    Fernando hums contently against his jugular, the younger can nearly feel the vibrations from it, his body far too sensitive to everything right now. Then, all of a sudden, he increases the momentum of his hand and tightens his fist snugly around the head of his cock until he sees white. Everything is white and it comes in flashes as he releases within the elder's hand, one that continues to fluidly stroke him.

    A litany of curses mixed in with a string of broken moans emanates from the man as he bangs his head back against the tiled wall once more. Hips are bucking spasmodically, breathing labored, as he succumbs to the blindingly bright light that's more or less a siren's call; it lulls his errant mind until he feels nothing but the hand still steadily working his cock, can only hear the occasion hum from the elder, can smell the scent of his musk.

    "Oh, uh—Yeah, you sound okay. I'm just gonna go and, uh, pretend I didn't hear that. If Torres is with you, just let him know, unless he heard already then—.. I'm just gonna go."

    Amused snickers emanate from the elder male as he eases the younger through his high until he's more or less a panting mess against the tiled wall. His lips are bitten and reddened beyond belief, throat covered in bright teeth marks akin with rapidly bruising skin, his eyes wide and blown with ecstasy. It's a sight that is permanently singed into Fernando's mind, nearly has him cumming then and there, but he values Antoine's pleasure over his own; always would.

    "Anto?" No response. The elder nuzzles his nose within the crevice of his neck softly, rousing the male. "Hey? You with me?"

    "Huh? What? O-oh. yeah. I'm just, uh—I don't think I can, y'know—.. Talk?"

    "Yeah?"

    "Yeah."

    Antoine's chest sooner rather than later begins to steadily rise and fall as opposed to before as he allows his eyes to finally open to blink at the elder. He doesn't breathe another word, however, as he eyes the man with a fondness that glints within his now animated gaze. Before the elder can speak on his appearance, however, the brunet is bursting out in a fit of giggles, bringing up a hand to shield his mouth as he does so.

    "Uh?"

    "That could've ended badly, sorry. It's just—it's funny."

    "Would you have preferred him to walk in on you like that?"

    "No, no of course not. But he was right there."

    "Young and immature."

    "Maybe?"

    Fernando offers him a purse of the lips, shaking his head in a scolding manner, but it's short-lived as he quirks his lips into a small smile. "Get your ass on the bus, Griezmann."

    Antoine releases another breathless laugh as he brings a hand up to ghost along the thoroughly abused skin of his neck, wincing at the tenderness there. "Ah, did you leave any marks?"

    "Stop asking questions and go."

    "But you didn't—?"

    All the elder can do is smirk as he places one, final kiss upon the younger's lips, tugging the lower one between his teeth. "Hotel room. Now go."

    "Dieu merci."

    "Antoine,"

    "Okay, okay. I'm going."

**Author's Note:**

> Was it okay? Meh? Decent? Lemme know? xD


End file.
